Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
T here was football on the TV. The smell of mulling cider filled the house, heavy on the cinnamon and cloves. Christmas music played in the background, and everyone was chattering and?—
And Trey felt like he might puke. He’d been dreading this tree-trimming party. What the hell was he supposed to do? Seriously, what the hell?
He wasn’t being all ‘oh what will I do? However shall I do everything blind? I’m helpless’. That was horse shit.
He’d been practicing for being really blind for a couple of years now. But this was different.
This wasn’t practice.
“Okay, here are the ornament boxes. There’s six of them, Trey?” West asked.
“Yes. I mean, if I remember right. Ben?”
“That’s what I remember us hauling last year.”
“Cool beans.” West set the totes he carried down, the sound barely there, like he’d let them down super easy.
“Daddy, are you hepping?” Zoe asked.
“Um.” He tried hard not to panic at the question.
Somehow Christmas was all about lights and sparkly things and shiny things. All of the parts of the holiday that weren’t about seeing were about cooking and baking, and those weren’t on his list of super skills.
He didn’t want the kids to remember him as the dad who sat and didn’t do anything with them at the holidays, but he was heading that way. He couldn’t even look and tell them if the tree was straight in its stand. He couldn’t pick Zoe up and have her put the star on top of the tree because what if he knocked it down?
What the fuck was he supposed to do?
He stood and excused himself to whoever was listening and headed back to the bedroom because he was fixing to have a meltdown. Just a screaming, kicking, throwing-a-fucking-fit meltdown.
Trey wanted to be able to do what everybody else was doing. He knew it was a stupid thing to want, or maybe not. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel stupid for wanting what everybody just did naturally.
But he did.
He wanted what everybody else had, and he wasn’t going to have it. And he needed ten minutes to sit and feel sorry for himself.
Maybe even cry. If he cried when he was by himself, it didn’t count.
Trey sat on the edge of the bed, fingers dragging over the sheet. This was West’s side of it now, his pillows, his reading glasses on the bedside table. West didn’t bother to go home except to change clothes or grab something, and really? It was stupid. Why didn’t West just move in? Then they could let Belinda and Lisa have the foreman’s house.
Or maybe they needed another foreman. Could West be the foreman if he was a boss?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. “I swear to God, Kait. I don’t know what to do, and I’m trying really freaking hard not to feel sorry for myself because I’ve got more than lots of people do. I’m pretty pissed off, though. I’m pretty fucking overwhelmed, and…” The bedroom door opened and he closed his eyes. “I’m fine, I just need a minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“West, I need a minute.” He was barely holding on by his toenails.
“What’s the matter?”
Trey saw red for a second and whipped around. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking serious? What’s the matter is that I am blind. I have two children that I have to hire someone to help me take care of. What’s the matter is that it’s fucking Christmas, and I can’t see the Christmas lights, and I can’t help, and I’m just useless in this situation! I don’t know what to do.
“What’s the matter is that you told me yesterday that you’re in love with me. You couldn’t be in love with me when I was okay. You couldn’t handle being in love with me when I was fine and I could see and I was successful.”
He heard West’s swift intake of breath, but he couldn’t make himself stop.
“And I was all of that, you know? I would have given you whatever you asked for.”
Hell, he had. He’d let West go. He’d let West walk away.
“No, you had to wait to be fucking in love with me until you got everything you goddamn well wanted, and I needed help. That’s what’s the matter! What’s the matter is you couldn’t love me enough when I was healthy, and that hurts. Because the fact is, if I hadn’t come back here and needed your help, you’d have never come to find me.”
His heart was going to break right in half, because he was saying things to West he never wanted to. “Did you even think about me before Mal called?”
Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He was so fucking pissed off. “I try so fucking hard, man. I’ve done the shots, I’ve done the surgeries, I’ve done everything that they told me to do. And I still can’t see. And it’s Christmas. And I’m never going to see the Christmas lights again. I love Christmas lights.”
To his sheer horror, tears streamed down his face, hot and ugly. He was awfully afraid he’d been yelling. He really needed a hug, and he was kind of afraid he’d yelled himself into a place where he was never going to get one again.
Still, he opened his arms as he fought to breathe.
West came to him, though. Closed the door behind him and came to sit on the bed and hug him tight.
Shit, West was shaking. He wasn’t sure what with. Sorrow? Rage? The urge to strangle him so he would shut up? He had no idea. But he did know that West was hugging him.
“West?”
“I got a lot to say, honey. But not right now. You aren’t ready for me to say it right now. You get to be pissed off right now. You get to be sad. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with getting that shit out. Period.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sorry for saying it; he was sorry for meaning it. But that didn’t matter. “I’m very frustrated.”
And hurt. He was hurt. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered right now is that he had been, really—if not ugly, then absolutely oversharing with his lover.
“I can tell that. And I know you need a minute. But the kids are worried. So when you’re ready, come on back out, and I’ll give you a box of ornaments to put hooks on.”
“Okay.” He nodded and waited for West to leave.
He’d messed this up well and royally. Go, team him.
His job today was to keep his mouth shut, nod whenever someone asked him something, and let everybody have Christmas. He could be selfish later.
Probably when he was sleeping by himself. Because he’d fucked that part up too.
He grabbed his phone to call Mallory, just to vent.
But before he did, he realized that he didn’t even know what he was going to say.
He was the asshole.
She didn’t need to hear it. Neither did anybody else.
He needed to shut up, paste on a big smile, and go be festive.